


INSTAntané

by KarmaHope



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Fashion & Models, Alternate Universe - No Powers, F/M, Miraculous Big Bang dropout, instagram au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-15
Updated: 2018-08-04
Packaged: 2019-03-05 08:44:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13384254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KarmaHope/pseuds/KarmaHope
Summary: Marinette never intended to become the Instagram-famous model known as Ladybug. It just kind of ... happened. Overnight. She's still a little bewildered by it all. But now her longtime celebrity crush Adrien Agreste is following the account, she's made friends with the anonymous cosplay account @lechatnoir, and she has an internship with Agreste Designs coming up.When she meets Adrien in person during her internship, she's torn. What's more important? Her privacy as the anonymous Ladybug, or a superficial celebrity crush she's had since middle school? What if that crush ends up being something more?The bottom line is, she's screwed, and it's all Alya's fault.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I meant to complete this for the Miraculous Big Bang, but school took up all my time this last semester. This story is inspired by this au (http://karmahope.tumblr.com/search/asian-simbae) by asian-simba, and I'm very grateful for the fact she gave me permission to write it!
> 
> I hope you like it! This is my first Miraculous fic in a while, and it feels good to be back :)

“Mari, you have far too many clothes.”

Marinette Dupain-Cheng looked up from her sketchbook at the sound of the familiar exasperated voice. Alya Césaire, her best friend since _école élémentaire_ and her current roommate, stood in front of Marinette’s open closet, staring at the – admittedly, overfilled – racks. Marinette simply sighed as she went back to penciling in the details of her latest design.

“That’s not exactly a fair thing to say to a fashion design student, you know.”

“I mean, how many of these do you actually _wear?_ ” Alya continued as if she hadn’t heard Marinette, pulling out a screen-printed crop top. “I only ever see you in the same jeans and jacket you’ve been wearing since _lyc_ _ée_.”

“I wear a few of them!” Marinette squawked indignantly, looking up again. “I get dressed up when we go out!”

“Yeah, and how often do we go out?” Alya asked, raising an eyebrow at her. Marinette didn’t have a good answer for her, and so she fell silent. “That’s what I thought.”

Marinette shrugged as she sketched the hemline of a skirt. “I guess my passion just lies in designing the clothes, not necessarily wearing them, you know?” She didn’t need to look up to know that Alya rolled her eyes at her.

“These are all _gorgeous_ , Mari. It’s practically an insult that you don’t wear any of them.”

Taking a deep breath, Marinette put her pencil down on the bed beside her and turned her full attention to Alya, who was now holding up one of the dresses she had made back in _lyc_ _ée_. It was secretly her favorite, blue and flouncy, but she’d never quite had the guts to wear it to school. Maybe … maybe Alya was right. Maybe it was time to change that.

“I guess we _are_ in _université_ ,” she mumbled quietly.

“ _And_ you’re actually a fashion design student,” Alya said, twirling with the dress. “You’re almost _expected_ to dress a little out-of-the-box from time to time.”

Marinette glanced down at her sketchbook and snapped it closed. “Says the photography-slash-journalism student,” she said as she pushed herself off the bed and crossed the room to stand next to her friend. “I think the same is expected of you.”

“Yeah, but I’m already cute and trendy.”

Together, they surveyed Marinette’s closet, which was filled to the brim with cloth. It was an eyesore, honestly, given the fact that it hadn’t yet been organized into something reasonable. When they had moved into the apartment, Marinette had simply stuffed as many of her clothes into the closet as possible so that she would have space to arrange the furniture in her room.

She sighed. “How about this: if you help me get my closet sorted, I promise I’ll start wearing these more.”

Alya grinned. “Deal.”

Well, there was no time like the present. Together, they attacked the closet with gusto, and only minutes later Marinette’s floor was lost beneath heaps of fabric. The two girls barely had enough room to move, and even then they had to take extra care not to step on any of the clothes.

“I think,” Alya said, “that we should take this out into the living room.”

They painstakingly separated the clothes by type – shirts, skirts, dresses, etc – and color. The process took hours; it certainly didn’t help that Alya frequently thrust a couple items of clothing at Marinette and told her to try them on together. Sometimes the combination worked, but other times it simply left the both of them breathless with laughter.

Alya’s camera found its way out onto the coffee table, and so the sound of the shutter clicking wasn’t uncommon. Marinette was used to her friend’s habit of documenting everything, and so she only protested a little in the beginning. Even that was more of a formality than anything, at this point.

By the time all the clothes made it back into the closet, Marinette was left wearing the flouncy blue dress and a pair of strappy orange sandals that she hadn’t bothered to change out of. As she stared out the large window in the living room down at the street below, coffee mug in hand, she didn’t even look up at the sound of Alya’s shutter going off.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Alya asked.

Marinette shrugged, then laughed a little. “I had forgotten about most of those clothes,” she said truthfully. “Gosh, I made some them back in what, _collége_?”

“Yeah, something like that,” Alya said, fiddling with her camera. “I think I remember you stressing out over that bowler hat.”

Marinette giggled. “I can’t believe I thought _feathers_ were a good idea.” She took a deep breath and continued, “I think you were right, Alya. As we were going through all those, I kept thinking about what matched with what. I’ve never actually done that before since I made everything at different times. I was always moving onto the next project immediately. So, I think you might have been onto something.”

“Aren’t you glad you’ve kept me around for all these years?”

“What kind of question is that? You know I am.”

* * *

Likes: 0  
Followers: 0

* * *

That night, Alya sat in the dark of her own bedroom, uploading the photos she had taken that day to her computer. Once they had all uploaded, she began to click through them, as she always did. She was always searching for her best photos, which she put in a separate folder to save for her eventual portfolio. There were a couple that stood out, but when she reached the ones of Marinette standing by the window, she paused.

Her friend was stunning, and she had no idea. The way the lighting interacted with the colors of her dress and sandals made for excellent photography as well. Alya had taken multiple photos, some of Marinette as she was, but then something had inspired her to cover Marinette’s face with her finger before taking the next photo.

There was something about those photos, the anonymity adding a certain _je ne sais quoi_. Adjusting her glasses on her face, Alya opened the best of the photos in her editing software.

It didn’t need much, she thought. She carefully increased the color intensity and deepened some of the shadows, and then, on a whim, edited the color of Marinette’s white coffee mug to an orange that complemented her shoes.

Alya debated editing out the ladybug spots painted on her fingernail in polish, but after a couple minutes, decided to leave them in. They didn’t clash too badly with Marinette’s outfit, and it actually looked kind of cool. After a couple other minor tweaks, Alya had a final product that left even her stunned.

And she realized – keeping this photo to herself wouldn’t be doing anyone any favors. Putting it online wouldn’t hurt anything, would it? Marinette’s face wasn’t even visible in the photo, and people deserved to see her work. Marinette deserved to have people see her work.

That was how Alya came to the decision to open Instagram and make a new account. It would be entirely anonymous, she decided as she entered one of her several emails. Instead of putting Marinette’s name in the box, she put simply, ‘Ladybug.’ She brainstormed usernames for several minutes before entering **la_mode_coccinelle** _._ It wasn’t grammatically correct, but then again, it was just a username.

She left the bio blank for the time being, but immediately uploaded the image she had just taken. She carefully chose a filter and dimmed it down to fifty percent, not wanting its effects to be overpowering. _Debuting her first design_ , _the fashionable Ladybug,_ she captioned the photo, complete with the ladybug emoji. She then translated it into English as best she could and added all the applicable hashtags.

She searched a couple of the hashtags and found some other fashion bloggers. She liked and followed several of them, knowing that some would follow back. Her friends didn’t call her the queen of social media for nothing.

It was a flawless plan. Marinette didn’t need to know about it – at least not yet. After all, it was unlikely that the account would get many followers. If Alya told Marinette about it now, the other girl would lose the comfortable ease she had in front of Alya’s camera, and that wouldn’t do anyone any good, either.

This was benefitting Marinette, Alya told herself. If nothing else, it would be an online profile for the _both_ of them when they started seriously looking for employment.

“Oh!” Alya gasped a moment later. The photo had already gotten a like, and Ladybug had already gotten herself a follower.

Satisfied with herself, Alya turned off her computer and went to bed.

* * *

Likes: 17  
Followers: 10

* * *

Marinette started getting up earlier than she used to, determined to stick to her resolution of wearing the clothes that had long sat neglected in her closet. If she was going to do this, she was going to do it right.

That day, she wore a black off-the-shoulder long sleeved crop top, which was far more daring than she’d ever had the guts to be before. She’d paired it with an olive green maxi skirt, gold gladiator sandals, and gold bangles, and she liked the fierce sort of confidence the style gave her.

After the first week or so, Marinette had started spending more time on her makeup as well, although she wasn’t nearly as good at makeup as she was at clothing. Still, a nude lip color and an understated smoky eye completed the ensemble.

Alya wolf-whistled at her as she entered the apartment after coming back from class that afternoon.

“Damn, girl! You look _so_ good,” she said. “If I hadn’t known you forever, I’d say I didn’t know you had it in you!”

Marinette smiled bashfully. “Thanks, Alya. I really like this one, I think. I got a lot of compliments from my classmates today.”

“What did I tell you? It’s practically expected of you!”

“Yeah, well, I’m about to find out what my parents think. I’m headed over to the bakery – do you want me to bring anything home with me?”

Alya rolled her eyes. “Well, duh. Bring back a couple of those cheese buns your _papa_ makes. Those things are to _die_ for.”

Marinette laughed as she walked toward her bedroom to drop her bag. “Will do,” she called back over her shoulder.

She paused in her bedroom for a moment. On her bed sat the wide-brimmed hat she had decided against that morning, thinking it would be either too much or it would get in the way while she attended class. Now that she was just making the short walk to her parents’ bakery, she picked it up and put it on, checking her reflection in the full-length mirror in her room.

It looked a little odd, but it was a sort of good odd, if that made sense. Shrugging it off, Marinette grabbed her gold clutch purse and made to leave. Alya, however, stopped her in her tracks.

“Do you mind if I walk with you for a little bit?” her friend asked, her camera in hand. “I have nothing better to do.”

Marinette grinned. “You just want to get another photo of me,” she accused. She hadn’t been entirely unaware of the fact Alya made it a point to get a shot of her in every new outfit she wore.

“You know me too well,” Alya said, returning the grin. “Come on, you’ll thank me later when you’re trying to break into the industry.”

She had a point. If Marinette could start building a portfolio now, it would surely help her further on down the road.

“Yeah, alright,” she said. “That’s a good idea, actually. But let’s go. I know I work for my parents, but I don’t want to be late.”

And so, the two friends set off for the Dupain-Cheng bakery towards the center of Paris.  As they passed by the Eiffel tower, Alya stopped.

“Come on, this is perfect!” she exclaimed. “Simple, elegant, _so_ Parisian. Your skirt matches the grass, and I can get the Tower in the background!”

Marinette let out an exaggerated sigh as she complied with her friend’s wishes. “Alright,” she said. “How do you want me?”

“All day and all night, baby,” Alya grinned, and Marinette rolled her eyes. “But for now, just to the left a little bit. Hold the clutch down in front of you, and … oh! Pull the brim of your hat down over your eyes, all mysterious-like.” She demonstrated, and Marinette copied her. Marinette even plastered what she thought was a ‘mysterious-like’ smile on her face.

It was fun, playing model for her best friend.

She heard the shudder of the camera click a few times, and then Alya was telling her that she could let go of the brim of her hat. As soon as she did, however, there was one more click, and Alya was right up in her face like some paparazzo. She laughed.

“Come on,” she said. “Walk the rest of the way with me. If I’m late, you can explain to my parents why.”

“That’s not a problem,” Alya said as she turned her camera off. “Your parents love me just as much as they love you.”

“You’re right,” Marinette agreed. “They’d probably adopt you if they could.”

Work in the bakery went about the same as it usually did. It wasn’t hard work – to her, it was practically second nature after all the years she’d spent helping her parents out while she lived under their roof. Alya stuck around for a while, but had begged off after an hour or so, citing schoolwork she had to finish. Marinette hadn’t had the time to do much more than smile and wave her off in between customers.

The Dupain-Cheng Patisserie was the most popular bakery in the heart of Paris, and so there wasn’t much downtime. This problem had only been exacerbated in the last couple weeks since Marinette had started to make an effort to dress nicer. It seemed that everyone in Paris wanted to stop to talk to her, to compliment her, or to get her number – which she refused to give out.

And, as always, she helped her parents close up and prepare for the next day.

“ _Ma Cherie,_ ” her mother said as soon as they had a moment, “this is a new look for you!”

Marinette blushed and looked down, letting her loose hair fall to hide her face. She might have been dressing well in the last couple weeks, but she hadn’t yet worn anything as daring as she was today.

“Yeah,” she said, scuffing her toes. “Alya and I were talking about it, about the fact that I’ve designed and made so many clothes, but never really wear any of them. So, I decided to change that.”

“You look absolutely stunning,” Sabine assured her. “My little baby is all grown up.”

Marinette laughed as she allowed her mother to pull her into a hug. It had been a couple years now since she had outgrown the older woman – even in her flat gladiator sandals, she stood over her by a couple inches. Her mother often joked that she got her height from her father.

“Alya’s been taking photos,” Marinette added as an afterthought as she pulled away. “The idea is to make a sort of portfolio for when I start looking for internships.”

“That’s an excellent idea, _ma petite chou,_ ” Tom said, having overheard as he walked into the back room to grab a cloth to wipe down the counters with. “It’s never too early to start thinking ahead.”

Marinette grinned. “Thanks, _papa._ ”

“You run along now,” her father said. “Your _maman_ and I can take it from here.”

“Okay!” She pressed a quick kiss to each of her parents’ cheeks and grabbed her clutch. “I’ll see you both tomorrow!”

* * *

Likes: 83  
Followers: 375

* * *

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, credit for the plot itself can't be given to me, I'm only responsible for its execution. That's all on @asian-simba :)

Alya stared down at the stats for **la_mode_coccinelle** with glee. She had been posting a picture – or multiple pictures – to Ladybug’s Instagram account almost every day for a couple weeks now. The photos were visually stunning, she made sure of that. Still, she hadn’t expected to gather such a large following in such a short amount of time.

At this point, it really was _Ladybug’s_ Instagram instead of her own. Several people who had commented on the photos had called the otherwise-anonymous model Ladybug, and so the moniker was official.

Alya scrolled eagerly through the notifications, looking to see which photos were garnering the most interest. The account was an unusual mix of photos that Marinette had posed for and candid photos she had been entirely unaware of. There was no consistency to the sort of style that Marinette wore – she might be wearing a flouncy yellow sundress one day and a sleeveless black leather jacket the next. One element that never changed, though, was that her face was always hidden. When it wasn’t hidden naturally by something in the photo, such as the brim of her hat, it was always blocked out by a small strip of ladybug print.

Alya had taken the time after she had first made the account to really cement Ladybug’s presence. She had followed several more indie fashion designers and aspiring models, and many of them had followed her back. She had also followed several big-name designers as well, including Agreste Designs and Gabriel Agreste himself, whom she knew Marinette idolized.

She had not yet followed her friend’s longtime celebrity crush, who was none other than Gabriel’s son Adrien. The young man had rocketed into his modeling career at a young age, in part thanks to his father, and Marinette had been mooning after him since _collège._ She wasn’t as vocal about it now, and she might have left all her posters in her childhood bedroom, but Alya _knew_.

As much as she had made fun of Marinette for her crush, part of Alya hoped that if the account really took off, then it would be enough to get Adrien to follow back. As it was now, **la_mode_coccinelle** would be just another fan. But if Ladybug actually _was_ someone before she followed him, then maybe she would catch his attention. It was a long shot, sure, but if Alya could do this one thing for her best friend, then maybe Marinette wouldn’t be as upset with her when she ultimately found out about the Instagram amount.

**_la_mode_coccinelle_ ** _Working a 90s grunge theme today! The top is a cotton-polyester blend and the shorts are distressed and treated with bleach. As always, every stich was sewn by Ladybug herself!_

_#90s #grunge #fashion #model #indiefashion #instafashion #instafashionista #clothes #designer #cute #ladybug_

Until that time, Alya was having fun with her project, and she had no plans to stop any time soon.

* * *

Likes: 265  
Followers: 1,012

* * *

Likes: 378  
Followers: 2,523

* * *

Likes: 3,945  
Followers: 13,967

* * *

That couldn’t be right.

She closed out of the app and restarted it.

Nothing changed.

“ _Mon dieu,”_ Alya whispered in disbelief as she logged into Ladybug’s Instagram after class one day. The follower count had jumped from just past two and a half thousand to nearly fourteen thousand overnight, and she couldn’t believe her eyes. What was happening? Or rather, what _had_ happened?

She frantically scrolled down through the notifications, but she couldn’t find anything that stood out in the absolute mass of new notifications. There had to be a reason for Ladybug’s sudden popularity though, right?  Alya had been carefully cultivating a couple hundred followers a week, but this was something else entirely. Had someone famous followed her? But even if they had, it would only show up under the ‘following’ notifications and not nearly this many people would have seen it.

Alya puzzled over it all the way back to the apartment she shared with Marinette. She wasn’t complaining about the sudden attention, not at all! But when Instagram kept blowing up her phone as she gained followers every couple minutes, she had to wonder.

And so, as soon as she was safe in her bedroom, she did what any other person would do when faced with a sudden influx of notifications and popularity. She Googled it. Specifically, she Googled ‘Instagram la_mode_coccinelle.’

The first few things that popped up were the account itself and some of the posts she had commented on, but the headline for the entry a couple results down made her pause. And gasp. She didn’t believe her eyes at first, but a rush of giddiness threatened to consume her as it sunk in.

_Buzzfeed._

Somebody at Buzzfeed had done an exposé – in English – on the mysterious designer-slash-model known only as ‘Ladybug,’ and it had gained traction. A lot of traction. It was _trending_ on Twitter _._ There was, thankfully, a French translation of the article, and Alya read it eagerly, her heart in her throat.

_We’re In Love With This Instagram Account And You Should Be Too  
Alison Reyes_

_Kylie Jenner? Gigi Hadid? Adrien Agreste? Who are they? Step aside, top models, there’s a new contender in town, and she’s something to watch._

_Known to her Instagram followers only as ‘Ladybug,’ this French model-slash-designer isn’t quite taking Instagram by storm, but she certainly should be! Who is Ladybug, you may ask? No one actually knows._

_[First photo of Ladybug in blue dress]_

_A couple weeks ago, the Instagram account **la_mode_coccinelle** posted this photo of a gorgeous young woman with her face covered by the photographer’s thumb. Since then, the account has posted new photos almost every day of that same woman, and every day she’s wearing something entirely different and absolutely stunning. The only repeats in outfits are in the candid photos the photographer sometimes posts, which we all live for in hopes of getting a glimpse into this mystery woman’s life._

_[Photo of Ladybug in 1940s vintage]_

_So what? You ask. What makes this account and this woman any different from all the rest? The difference here is that Ladybug is entirely anonymous, although we know she’s French from the captions and the backgrounds of some of her photos. She’s not looking to be famous. She’s also not wearing designer clothes, which brings me to the other difference. The other difference, if the account is to be believed, is that Ladybug both designs and creates all the outfits she wears._

_[Photo of Ladybug in front of the Eiffel Tower]_

_As you can see in these photos, Ladybug doesn’t have a theme to her sense of style. She’ll wear 1940s vintage one day and a midriff-baring crop top the next! She certainly keeps us on our toes, and it’s always exciting to see what she does next!_

_[Photo of Ladybug in sleeveless leather jacket, white crop top, and high-waisted shorts]_

_Keep an eye out, world, because @la_mode_coccinelle_ _is going places, and you won’t want to miss it! There’s no doubt about it, Ladybug’s fashion sense is #goals._

_[Candid photo of Ladybug]_

_\- Alison Reyes is the UK lifestyle editor for Buzzfeed and is based in London_

“ _Merde,_ ” was all Alya could say when she finished. Was Marinette really that popular? Had she _made_ Marinette that popular? The answer to both these questions was a resounding _yes_ , and when she checked the account again, it had already gained several more followers.

Over the next few days, Alya kept an eye on it. She watched in utter amazement as the article made the rounds on Twitter and Tumblr, as well as a few other platforms she herself didn’t keep up with. Marinette was Internet famous, and she didn’t even know it.

* * *

Likes: 20,832  
Followers: 328K

* * *

Marinette, of course, was oblivious to it all. She continued to wear her outfits and do her own thing, going to class and designing new clothes and working in her parents’ bakery. The newness of dressing up had worn off, and now it was simply habit. Even her parents had gotten used to seeing her in plunging necklines and elegant dresses, and while they might not entirely approve of the former, they wholeheartedly supported her in all of her endeavors.

“Mari,” Alya said on one of their weekend strolls around Paris, “lean against the bridge and look out over the Seine.”

Marinette rolled her eyes playfully, as she always did. Today she was dressed in a bohemian fashion, layers and prints that should have clashed were instead paired artfully together. Simple knotted sandals protected her feet. “The wind is blowing in the wrong direction, but I assume you want it to be,” she said.

“Of course,” Alya replied easily. “How would anyone have time to spend looking at the clothes if they spent all of it staring at your face?”

“You’re weird,” Marinette said as she complied.

“It’s called art.”

They weren’t on the Pont des Arts, and city of Paris had banned love locks years ago, but that hadn’t stopped a few rebellious couples from hanging them anyway. The few that remained on the bridge complimented Marinette’s outfit, and Alya was very pleased with the aesthetic of the photos she took.

Later that night, Marinette was hard at work on her latest project, a gothic piece with a lot of black ruffles and lace and a corset to match. The corset was the most challenging part – she refused to go out and buy one when everything else she wore was handmade. Still, she welcomed the challenge, and was sewing in the boning when it happened.

“Holy _SHIT!_ MARINETTE!!”

Marinette immediately let up on the foot pedal, not wanting to screw up anything more than the little divot she’d put in the seam when Alya had screamed. She was about to call back and ask what was wrong when Alya came barreling into her room. The door hit the wall with a loud _bang_.

“Marinette! We’ve done it!” Alya screeched, jumping up and down in her excitement.

“Done … what?”

“ _Adrien Agreste is following us on Instagram!!_ Oh my god!! _”_

Marinette froze. None of what her best friend had said made any sense. Taking shallow breaths, she unfroze slowly. She put the corset down and stood to face Alya, confusion making her head spin.

 “A- Adrien Agreste is following _us?_ On _Instagram_? Alya, what did you _do_!?”

Alya offered her a sheepish smile. “So I _may_ have been posting all those photos of you in your outfits to an Instagram account that I made. Which _may_ have been featured in a Buzzfeed article last week. Which _may_ have almost four hundred thousand followers already. Which _may_ have caught the attention of Adrien Agreste. And he _may_ have, uh, followed … us?”

Marinette didn’t know where to start, much less what to say. Her best friend had been posting her pictures on Instagram? The account had been featured on _Buzzfeed?_ She had caught the attention of _Adrien Agreste?_  The man she had been crushing on since she was thirteen? That was almost seven years ago now! Actually, she didn’t know if she could say anything at all. In fact, she was pretty sure that she couldn’t breathe, and that Alya was telling her not to hyperventilate, and that the last thing she knew was that she was going to kill her best friend.

And then everything went black.

She woke up a few moments later, blinking back tears as Alya handed her a cup of water. She sipped slowly as she tried to work everything over in her mind. It was too much. Had Alya really been going behind her back this entire time?

“If it helps,” Alya said awkwardly, “Your face isn’t showing in any of the photos I’ve posted. It’s either been hidden, or I photoshopped a bar over it. Nobody knows you as Marinette – to the world, you’re just Ladybug.”

That did help, a little bit. “When did you start?” Marinette asked through tears she couldn’t stop from rolling down her face.

“That first night we went through your wardrobe,” her friend admitted. “I took some pictures of you in that blue dress, then covered your face on impulse and took a couple more. I don’t know why I did, I just thought it would be artsy, or whatever. Then I made an Instagram account and posted one of them, pretty much for shits and giggles. I just kept doing that, and the next thing I knew, I had a couple hundred followers.”

Marinette sighed and stared down into her water cup. “I think – I think I need some time to think about this,” she said. “But … could I see the photos you’ve posted already?”

“Oh, yeah, absolutely,” Alya said. She immediately pulled out her phone and, silently, she handed it over.

Marinette set the now-empty cup down and turned her full attention on the screen in front of her. As much as she hated to admit it, as much as she wanted to be mad at her best friend for going behind her back, she couldn’t.

The pictures were absolutely beautiful. Alya was a brilliant photographer, and when combined with Marinette’s skill with fashion and Instagram’s filters, it made for something that one could stare at for ages.

“I look so _good_ ,” she said with amazement as she scrolled through the photos. She read the captions and skimmed through the comments, and she realized what an incredible thing Alya had managed to put together. In fact, she started crying again, but this time with love for her best friend.

Several minutes later, she was able to breathe evenly again.

“Okay,” she said.

“Okay?”

“Yeah. Let’s do this. You’ve already got this far, and that was without my cooperation. Just think of what we could do together!”

Alya smirked. “You just want Adrien Agreste’s attention, don’t you.”

“I – uh, well. That may be part of it, but I’d honestly forgotten for a moment that he was following us,” Marinette admitted. Then it hit her like a ton of bricks. “ _Mon dieu!_ _Adrien Agreste_ is following us!!”

“I know!”

Both girls squealed a little.

“Are we following him back?” Marinette asked eagerly.

“We’re not, actually. I was kind of waiting to see if Ladybug took off before I followed him – he just beat me to it!” Alya exclaimed.

“Well then,” Marinette said, clicking through to the model’s profile with shaky thumbs. She took a second to admire his face, to stare at those green eyes she could never get enough of. “I think it’s about time we did.”

Two seconds later, the button was pressed, and **la_mode_coccinelle** was following **adrienagreste**.

Not bad, for a simple little experiment.

 

* * *

Likes: 21,001  
Followers: 353K

* * *

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been really good about getting chapters out weekly, but it might be a little longer before the next one. I'm leaving for my study abroad today!
> 
> As always, I can only take credit for the execution of this pieces. @asian-simba is responsible for the idea and its existence :)

Her phone buzzed beside her. Looking up from the seam she was sewing on her latest piece, Marinette checked the notification.

 **lechatnoir** sent you a message!

Since she had learned about Alya’s Instagram project, the weeks had flown by, and Marinette found herself growing more and more invested in her identity as ‘Ladybug.’ Due to her desire to stay anonymous amidst the onslaught of popularity, she had stopped doing makeup before school and had gone back to wearing more casual, understated outfits out in public. Now, it was only once she got home that she changed into an outfit for the Ladybug Instagram and went out with Alya to find a location for a photoshoot.

Between school, sewing, and working at her parents’ bakery, the modeling was getting to be exhausting. It was all worth it, though – Marinette was having the time of her life, and she knew she was building a killer portfolio. In fact, she’d finally had the confidence to submit an application to the Agreste Designs internship she had coveted for so long! Her heart fluttered with anticipation and nervousness just thinking about it.

She finished the seam and picked up her phone, opening Instagram. She first cleared her notifications, then checked her direct messages.

 **_lechatnoir_ ** _: thanks for the tip, it turned out great!_

Examining the photo attached to the message, she thought for a moment before replying.

 **_la_mode_coccinelle_ ** _: it did! Can’t wait to see the final product :)_

The account had followed her a few weeks ago and Marinette, who Alya thought was crazy for trying to at least glance at all her follower’s profiles, had decided to follow it back. **lechatnoir** posted a strange variety of things: food, cats, and elaborate cosplay tended to make up the majority of his photos, followed by random Parisian scenery. After liking and commenting on many of her posts, he had direct messaged her with a sewing question related to his latest cosplay. Marinette ignored most of the DMs she received, as most of them were just from attention-seeking fans, but **lechatnoir** ’s question had been innocent enough, and one that she was more than qualified to answer.

In the weeks that had followed, they had built up an odd sort of friendship, sharing their projects with each other as they worked. Marinette knew it was risky, talking to a stranger online, but she enjoyed having someone other than Alya to talk to about Ladybug and her sewing projects.

 **_lechatnoir_ ** _: thanks!! :D what are you working on rn?_

Marinette cursed as she stuck herself with a pin while maneuvering the material into the sewing machine. Silk was a bear to work with – it took longer to sew with silk than it did many other fabrics – but the hassle of French seams was always worth it in the end.

Her mother had actually given her the idea for her current project. Why not pay heritage to her cultural background with some traditional Chinese designs? Marinette had jumped on the idea, and had planned out a series of designs based around the traditional _qipao_.

 **_la_mode_coccinelle_ ** _: still can’t say exactly what!! I’m sewing with silk tho, and I just stabbed myself_

 **_lechatnoir_ ** _: lol I know that feel_

The _qipao_ was turning out to be one of the most challenging pieces Marinette had done. Not one to do things by halves, she was determined to do all the embroidery herself. She was super excited about how it was turning out, but dear god was it time consuming.

Marinette closed Instagram and tossed her phone onto her bed so that she could turn all her focus back to the fabric before her. She had spoken to her mother in length about Chinese tradition, even going so far as to call her _laolao_ to make sure she had it right. Still, she had decided to step outside tradition just slightly in order to embroider little ladybug designs into the _qipao_.

She didn’t know how much time passed as she worked single-mindedly, occasionally humming along to bits and pieces of songs that came to mind. She only came out of her creative stupor when she heard Alya calling her name.

“Marinette?”

Marinette’s foot came off the machine’s pedal and she turned back to look at her friend. “Yes?”

“Two things,” Alya said. “Have you eaten today? Also, the golden hour is coming up in about an hour and a half, so you might want to get changed.”

Marinette blinked as she considered Alya’s question. _Had_ she eaten today? She’d had breakfast that morning when she got up, of that she was sure. But since then? She couldn’t remember, but she suspected not.

“Uhm,” she said, putting the _qipao_ aside. “I ate breakfast?” She shrunk under the glare Alya leveled at her. “I’ll eat and then I’ll get ready, I promise.”

“Alright, girl. Which outfit are we modeling tonight?”

Marinette thought for a moment. “It’s been pretty clear out today, right? The white dress, I think.”

“Ooh, the really flowy one with all the layers? And the lights?” A pensive look came across Alya’s face. “I think I have a better idea for that one. You have a little more time then, we’re gonna wait until the stars come out.”

Marinette stood and set the _qipao_ aside. Stepping gingerly across her room, she grabbed her phone. No new messages or notifications, although she knew that if she opened Instagram she’d have dozens of new likes and follows – she’d turned push notifications off weeks ago. She paused. Now that she wasn’t so focused on sewing, she realized she was ravenously hungry.

“Have you had dinner yet?” she asked Alya.

“Not yet,” Alya replied. “I figured you probably hadn’t eaten yet either.”

“Let’s eat, then. We can talk about tonight’s shoot while we do.”

“Sounds good to me,” Alya said. “By the way, it’s your turn to cook.”

Marinette just stuck out her tongue in response.

* * *

Likes: 22,223  
Followers: 412K

* * *

The photo from the shoot that night became Ladybug’s most-liked photo ever.

It was easy to see why. The photo was of Marinette standing in a flowing, glowing white dress on a rooftop under the light of the moon and stars, with the Eiffel Tower lit up in the background. Small gems reflected the light from the small string lights she had sewn into the skirt, and the thin fabric had rippled in the evening breeze as she stared up at the sky in wonder.

Marinette couldn’t help but stare at the set of three photographs, the first photo accompanied by a shot underneath a streetlight and another of Marinette twirling giddily in the apartment after she’d gotten dressed. Despite the turn the account had taken after Marinette had gotten in on the plan – and after she had become so popular she had stopped wearing her outfits casually – Alya still tried to capture some candid shots to keep the original charm of **la_mode_coccinelle** alive.

Marinette read through the comments eagerly, glowing happily under the praise she received. She wouldn’t admit it aloud, but there were two names she was always looking for in the likes and comments: **adrienagreste** , her celebrity crush until the end of time, and **lechatnoir** , her new, equally-anonymous internet buddy. Her heart still leapt whenever she saw that Adrien liked her photos – even though he usually did – and **lechatnoir** ’s comments always brought a smile to her face.

 **_lechatnoir_ ** _I wish it were more socially acceptable for guys to wear dresses, because this is one I’d wear in a heartbeat <3 Well done!_

She liked the comment, but didn’t respond.

Yawning, she put her phone down and turned back to her project. She had been up late the night before working on some designs for school, and she was just now getting back to her _qipao_. She didn’t think they had a shoot planned for tonight, but that didn’t mean she was off the hook. As much as it exhausted her, and as much as her parents worried about her and her new hectic lifestyle, Marinette loved it. She loved the hustle. She loved the productivity.

A few hours and several pinpricks later, Alya came into her room and took a seat on her bed.

“How do you feel about doing promotions?” she asked.

Marinette bit her lip as she cut a thread. “Promotions?”

Alya reclined across the bed, making herself right at home before answering. “Yeah, like, someone pays us to feature them or one of their products in one of our photos.”

“Hmm.” Marinette thought about it for a little bit and then said, “Wouldn’t that be like … I don’t know … selling out? People really like the indie, casual vibe we have going.”

Alya shrugged. “It doesn’t have to be super obvious,” she said. “Nino told his agents that he knew Ladybug – he didn’t tell them who we were, don’t worry – and they asked if they could get in touch, so he gave them the email I made when I set up the Ladybug account. They just emailed me today.”

Nino Lahiffe was Alya’s boyfriend as well as an aspiring DJ. Marinette used to go to lunch with them fairly often, but that had fallen by the wayside as her life had gotten busier. From what she’d heard, Marinette had gathered that he was pretty popular among various dedicated EDM circles, but was having trouble breaking into the mainstream. He had shown her some of his music before – it wasn’t what she would generally choose to listen to herself, but it was pretty catchy.

“How much are they offering?” she asked, curious.

Alya named a figure, and Marinette’s eyebrows shot up. Well, she thought as she began to reconsider, if she did this, she would be helping out a friend and making enough money off of it to cover a few of her supplies. Could she really say no?

“I guess we could give it a shot,” she said. “But I’m not promoting any clothing companies. Everything I wear has got to be mine, except maybe accessories, because otherwise we’d be compromising the whole point of Ladybug and **la_mode_coccinelle**.”

“I agree,” Alya said, nodding vehemently as she tapped out a reply to Nino’s agents. “Still, this might be a big step for us!”

Marinette laughed. “Yeah, probably!”

Silence fell between them as Alya concentrated on her email. Marinette turned back to the _qipao_ and got a little more done before Alya spoke again.

“Oh! Have you gotten a reply about that internship yet?” she asked.

Marinette sighed. “Not yet,” she said. “I’m trying not to think about it, I’m so nervous! My interview didn’t go as well as I’d hoped, but they seemed impressed with the photos we’ve done for Ladybug, so I think there’s _some_ hope.”

Alya snorted. “They’d be fools not to hire the designer behind Ladybug! Hell, they’d be fools not to hire you on as a model, too!”

A smile crept across Marinette’s face. “Thanks, Alya. That helps.”

“I do my best,” the other girl said.

An hour passed with the two of them hanging out without saying a word. The only sounds in the apartment were general apartment noises, the chug of Marinette’s sewing machine, and the occasional squeak of the bed when Alya shifted.

“So,” Alya said after a while, “I know we didn’t have a shoot planned for tonight, but I think it’s supposed to rain tomorrow, so if you’re free …”

As much as Marinette loved sewing, her eyes were beginning to swim from staring at the bright red fabric, and so she jumped at the chance. “What were you thinking?” she asked.

Alya hummed. “What about that American fifties dress you finished last week? I’m thinking it’d be super cute outside your parents’ bakery.”

“Are you sure that won’t tip people off as to who I am?”

Her friend waved her off. “It’s a public location, and the _Dupain-Cheng P_ _âtisserie_ is already one of the most popular in Paris. It’ll be fine.”

Marinette shrugged. “Alright,” she said. “Give me some time to get my hair and makeup done – period hair always takes more time.”

“You got it,” Alya said. “We’ve still got some time before the golden hour, so take advantage of it.”

Turning off the sewing machine, Marinette stood and headed into the bathroom to start getting ready.

* * *

Likes: 24,965  
Followers: 457K

* * *

 ** _lechatnoir:_ ** _i’m sorry, but I can’t stop thinking about that one dress. It looked like it was glowing!! *o*_

 **_lechatnoir:_ ** _i’d think it was photoshopped but you’ve told me you keep retouches to a minimum_

 **_lechatnoir:_ ** _but that was just_

 **_lechatnoir:_ ** _wow_

 **_lechatnoir:_ ** _i’ll shut up now ^^”_

Marinette let loose a sigh of contentment. She had just gotten out of the university’s workshop, having spent the last few hours holed up with her classmates as they prepared for their final projects and examinations. The end of the term was coming up, and nothing had ever been so stressful.

She knew she would pass with flying colors – she always did – but between school projects and Ladybug projects and working in the bakery, she hardly had a moment for herself. The walk home from the university was a much-needed solace, and she reveled in it. Of course, she’d had to check the Ladybug account.

Grinning at **lechatnoir** ’s messages, she readjusted the strap of her bag on her shoulder and pulled out the tight ponytail her hair had been in since she’d entered the workshop. She nearly groaned at the relief it granted her scalp.

 **_la_mode_coccinelle:_ ** _it was!_

She looked up briefly to make sure she wasn’t about to run into anyone or anything, then opened her email. Junk, junk, official _universit_ _é_ email (also junk), Agreste, junk … wait.

_Agreste?_

Marinette’s heart leapt into her throat, where it began throbbing wildly. She swallowed it back down and opened the email.

Her eyes broke away from the text when the man behind her bumped into her – that was also when she realized she’d stopped walking. Scrambling over to the edge of the sidewalk, it was all she could do just to not drop her phone.

_From: Agreste Designs  
To: Marinette Dupain-Cheng_

_ Subject: Internship _

_Dear Ms. Dupain-Cheng,_

_Thank you for applying to the Agreste Designs Summer Internship Program. We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted for this year, beginning in June …_

Marinette didn’t read the rest of it. Instead, she let out a loud whoop that attracted the attention of several passers-by. She’d done it! She’d landed the internship!

She practically ran the rest of the way home.

“ALYA!” she yelled as she burst through the door of their apartment a few minutes later, “Alya, I got the internship!”

“Oh my god!” Alya shrieked from the kitchen, just out of sight. “Really?”

“Really!”

“Let me see the email!”

Marinette handed the phone over to her best friend, who read through the entire thing with eagle-sharp eyes.

“Well,” Alya said when she finished, “Looks like _someone_ might just get a chance to meet her crush.”

Marinette’s cheeks flamed red. “Shut up,” she mumbled.

Alya just laughed.

“Anyway,” Marinette said, “I’m going to go get some work done. It doesn’t start until June so I have a couple weeks before I have to worry about embarrassing myself.”

Alya was still laughing when Marinette shut her bedroom door.

Taking a deep breath, she walked the few steps to her bed and collapsed. It had been a long day. A good day, but a long one all the same. She’d woken up early that morning to help her parents open the bakery before class, and she was exhausted.

Still, she opened Instagram to see if **lechatnoir** had responded, which he had.

 **_lechatnoir:_ ** _it was what?? Photoshopped???_

 **_la_mode_coccinelle_ ** _: no, silly. Glowing! It was actually glowing – there were tiny lights in the dress and everything!_

 **_lechatnoir:_ ** _OH SHIT._

 **_lechatnoir:_ ** _I keep meaning to try that for one of my cosplays but I haven’t found a good one yet TT.TT_

 **_lechatnoir:_ ** _that’s super cool!_

 **_la_mode_coccinelle_ ** _: thanks!! Speaking of, hows the newest link coming?_

Marinette talked with **lechatnoir** a while longer, listening to his tales of cosplay woe. He was trying to put a piece together from one of the Legend of Zelda games and it wasn’t quite working out the way he wanted it to.

It was a scenario Marinette knew all too well. She’d had to unpick some of the embroidery on the _qipao_ just recently, and man was that a chore. Thankfully, she was almost done with that project. She loved it, but she was really starting to get tired of working on the same piece. With any luck, she would have it done by the end of finals, if not before.

She should have been working on it now, but as she lay in bed, she felt her eyelids grow heavier and heavier until she unwittingly surrendered herself to sleep.

“Mari!” was the call that woke her an hour later. “Dinner’s ready!”

“I’ll be there in a minute,” she croaked in response as she regained her bearings. She rubbed at her eyes with one hand as she fumbled for her phone with the other. Stumbling out of her bedroom, she sleepily checked her email and other social media.

“Are you okay?” Alya asked as they sat down to eat. “You’re a mess.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Marinette waved her off. “I’m just tired. I think I’m gonna turn in early tonight.”

Alya nodded, and Marinette reflexively opened Instagram. She absently scrolled through the notifications as she ate, and then paused.

“Hey, Alya?” she squeaked. “Can you please tell me if I’m dreaming?”

“Why, what’s wrong?”

Marinette showed her the phone. The photo from the night under the stars was pulled up, the comment thread beneath it just as long and complimentary as it was before. Scrolling down, Marinette then showed her friend what had gotten her so worked up.

 **_adrienagreste_ ** _This photo is stunning. Can I please regram it? All credit will be given, and I’ll link your account._

“Ho-ly. Shit,” was Alya’s only response.

“I don’t understand,” Marinette said, her food forgotten. “He first liked this photo days ago! Why is he only just now commenting?”

“Does it matter?” Alya asked. “Dude. _Adrien Agreste_ is asking if he can _re-gram_ your photo. The answer is obviously yes!”

“True,” Marinette conceded. Carefully, she liked the comment and began typing out a response.

 ** _la_mode_coccinelle_** @adrienagreste _I would be honored. Of course you can :)_

“The smiley was too much,” she said after she sent it.

“The smiley was just right,” Alya countered.

Marinette didn’t know what else to say. She shrugged, finished her dinner quickly, and turned in early.

* * *

Likes: 25,040  
Followers: 488K


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here I am, a month later with another chapter! Study abroad is going well, but it's taking up most of my time. I have the next chapter written already, but I'm going to hold onto it for a while to guarantee I have something to post.
> 
> As for this chapter: "It's impossible to write both ladynoir and ladrien SIMULTANEOUSLY," they said. "Adrien can't be both Chat Noir and himself at the SAME TIME," they said. They were wrong.

* * *

Likes: 24,009  
Followers: 641K

* * *

Marinette wasn’t exactly surprised that Ladybug’s follower count spiked in the days following Adrien Agreste’s re-gram, but she was surprised by just how much it did. People were speculating whether or not they knew each other (they didn’t), whether or not Adrien had a secret girlfriend no one knew about (he didn’t), and whether or not Ladybug was an attention-seeking whore (she wasn’t).

Alya told her not to read the comments. Marinette did anyway. For every negative comment posted to both **la_mode_coccinelle** and **adrienagreste** , there were at least two positive ones. Unfortunately, each negative comment hit just as hard as the one before it.

What made it worse was that it had started _trending_. Adrien Agreste was a celebrity. Celebrities’ lives were always up for scrutiny, to the point where innocuous photos of models they admired were grounds for no less than the juiciest of gossip. On the other end of that, the subject of such gossip became an easy target for hate messages.

“I’m not trying to steal your man!” Marinette yelled at her phone one afternoon when she’d had enough. “I don’t even know him! He’s not yours! _You_ don’t even know him!”

That was when Alya smoothly nabbed the phone from her hands, logged out of the **la_mode_coccinelle** account, and changed the password from her own phone.

“I’ll handle this for a little while,” she said. “Concentrate on your final exams. Take your mind off it.”

Well, that was easier said than done, but Marinette tried her best.

She finished her school assignments and passed the exams with flying colors. She put in extra hours at the bakery. She finished the _qipao_ , and she and Alya took some time late one afternoon to find the perfect spot to do the photoshoot.

“Say what you want about the controversy,” Alya mused as they wandered the French countryside about an hour outside of Paris, “but our last photo still got more likes than any of our others. _And_ no one knows who we are, so our personal lives haven’t been affected.”

Marinette nodded. “Yeah, that’s true,” she said.

They wandered a little farther in silence.

“Soo …” Alya said, “Who’s _Le Chat Noir?_ ”

Inexplicably, Marinette felt heat rising to her cheeks. “I don’t know.” She shrugged. “He’s some cosplayer I started talking to a while back. I don’t really know why I responded to him when so many people were trying to talk to me. He just seemed genuine, I guess.”

“Mm-hmn. And the fact that he’s fit as hell didn’t have anything to do with it?”

“I … was more focused on the costumes,” Marinette said weakly. “And the cats.”

Alya hummed again, like she didn’t entirely believe Marinette but wasn’t about to push any further. “Anyway. I should probably give you access to the account again. He’s super concerned about you. I guess talking to me wasn’t good enough.”

“Wait, _what?_ ”

“Here, give me your phone.”

Marinette dumbly handed it over.

“Do you know his name? Age? What his face looks like? It’s obvious he takes care not to show it in his photos.”

Marinette could only shrug. “No, but he doesn’t know any of that about me, either. I’ve taken to calling him Chat Noir, at least in my head. We just complain about sewing projects to each other, that’s all.”

A minute later, Marinette had her phone back. Despite wanting to check **lechatnoir** ’s messages there and then, she forced herself to slip the device back into her purse. Alya was already suspicious enough.

“I have an idea for the photoshoot,” she said instead. “Let’s go to those trees over there.”

The photo would be of her, leaning back against a tree looking totally and utterly relaxed. She needed to show that she wouldn’t be scared off by the internet’s negativity, and this felt like the right way to do it. In that moment, with her eyes closed and the wind rustling through the trees, she really did feel more relaxed than she had in weeks.

She caught up with the Ladybug Instagram – which Alya had taken to calling the Ladyblog – as soon as they got home that night.

 **_lechatnoir:_ ** _yo dude I saw that Adrien Agreste re-grammed that post! Congrats!_

 **_lechatnoir_ ** _: you didn’t respond to my last message and that’s fine, I’m sure you’re busy, but take a look! The costume is finally cooperating!_

 **_lechatnoir:_ ** _[photo]_

 **_lechatnoir_ ** _: it’s been a few days. are you okay? You shouldn’t listen to what the haters have to say, you’re great_

 **_lechatnoir_ ** _: Ladybug? I’m getting kind of worried please message me when you get this_

 **_la_mode_coccinelle_ ** _: Hi, this is Ladybug’s photographer speaking. She’s doing just fine, she’s just taking a break from Instagram and all the negativity until after her exams are over. I’ll let her know you messaged, and I’ll have her contact you first thing. Sorry for not responding sooner, Ladybug gets a lot of messages that she doesn’t reply to. I didn’t realize yours were any different until now._

 **_lechatnoir_ ** _: oh okay! Yeah, just let me know._

Marinette sighed. It was sweet of her friend – yeah, she supposed they were friends at this point – to worry about her like that. She thought for a moment, then composed a reply.

 **_la_mode_coccinelle_ ** _: Hey! It’s me, Ladybug. Sorry about the scare. I got really busy and wasn’t handling the attention very well, so I stepped back for a little bit. But right?? I still can’t believe it happened. And the costume is looking great!!_

Gazing at the photo of the Link cosplay before her, she got an idea for her next outfit. Rushing over to her computer, she typed a couple words into the search bar. She surveyed the results before her and made a few mental notes.

 _Okay,_ she decided. _That’s doable._

She would make a run out to the fabric store tomorrow – it was too late to go anywhere that night. But as she got ready for bed and laid down to go to sleep, she was drafting sketches in her head.

* * *

Likes: 21,082  
Followers: 692K

* * *

With all her materials laid out before her the next day, Marinette had to admit that she felt a little bit out of her element. Although she had been designing and making clothes for years, costuming had never been her strong suit. It felt wrong, trying to copy a design down to the minutiae. She felt like her creative freedom was stifled, and she didn’t like it.

So, she decided then and there that she wouldn’t. She would take inspiration, but this work would be her own, just like everything else she had done up until this point.

She started with a simple sleeveless beige underdress that fell to just above her knees in the front and trailed longer in the back. To the front, she added a layer of shimmery chiffon that hung to just below the hemline. From there, she added a purple off-the-shoulder layer that swept back to follow the hemline of the dress, hiding where the chiffon was sewn to the fabric in the front. She added some trim and took the time to make a pair of shimmery white gloves as well.

The belt was the hardest part. Staring at the original design, it took her ages to transfer the pattern to the belt in such a way that it worked, but wasn’t tacky.

The entire outfit took less than a week. It would have been done even faster if Alya hadn’t dropped in to tease her about ‘that cat boy’ what felt like every three seconds. The way Alya told it, Marinette liked this guy she knew nothing about – which wasn’t true. She had just been inspired by his cosplay, and had decided to do something Zelda-themed as a sort of apology for scaring him so badly.

The accessories were the hardest thing to find. It took two days of looking before she and Alya found a dainty circlet and necklace that matched well enough to use. The sword Marinette wanted to use as a prop would have been another problem, but Alya had some friends in a theatre program that were willing to lend them a sword for a day.

They found an empty field to do the shoot in. Marinette, clad in her design and a pair of gladiator sandals, leaned casually upon the sword and stared into the distance as Alya scrambled to get her best shot.

It took some courage to post the photos from that shoot. What if Alya was right, and it came across _that_ way? But still, she had made the outfit and gone through the effort of doing the shoot – and she _was_ proud of it – so there was really only one option.

 ** _la_mode_coccinelle_** _Not my usual, but I was inspired by a friend of mine #fashion #cosplay #loz #zelda_

It wasn’t long before the likes and comments started flooding in. As usual, most were complimentary. Some were hate. Many of the comments boiled down to “omg loz is my FAVE,” while others critiqued the adaptation. There were more comments than she usually got, but she supposed that was to be expected when her outfit was easily recognizable as something that a lot of people knew and loved.

 **_adrienagreste_ ** _liked your post_

 **_lechatnoir_ ** _liked your post_

 **_lechatnoir_ ** _commented: oh my god you didn’t *heart eyes emoji*_

Marinette just smiled and rolled her eyes as she liked **lechatnoir** ’s comment, as well as a couple others that stood out.  As she did so, she couldn’t deny the fact that she wished Adrien would comment on a photo of hers again, despite the drama it had caused the last time. He hadn’t commented on anything since, and it was bumming her out a little bit more than maybe it should have.

It was probably for the better, anyway. Her internship would start soon, and she didn’t need to accidentally act familiar with Adrien Agreste when he didn’t even know who she was.

She shrugged. _C’est la vie._

* * *

Likes: 40,177  
Followers: 699K

* * *

On the other side of town, Adrien Agreste threw his phone down on his bed, where it thudded softly against the sheets. Moments later, there was a much louder thud and the squeak of bedsprings as his body followed. Laying back, he dragged his hands down his burning face.

 _Ladybug_.

She didn’t have any right to be affecting him as much as she did. She was just someone on the internet. An anonymous someone. He didn’t know who she was. Hell, she didn’t know who _he_ was – not really.

And yet.

Adrien couldn’t help but think that maybe he shouldn’t have regrammed her photo. He had proudly watched her follower count blow up, but at the same time he’d also seen the abuse that had been hurled in her direction. To anyone else, she might have seemed unaffected by it all – the account continued to post as it usually did. Adrien had only realized that everything wasn’t as hunky-dory as it appeared to be when Ladybug stopped replying to **lechatnoir** ’s DMs.

He hadn’t _meant_ to fall head over heels for the designer and model when he first followed her. Even when he’d first messaged her from his finstagram account about a sewing question, it had been the last thing on his mind; he had only cared about getting his cosplay perfect. Somewhere in between then and now, his feelings of admiration and friendship had gotten muddled.

And so, here he was.

A blushing mess.

“Mrrp!”

“Mrreow!”

Adrien removed his hands from his face to pet the cats that had jumped up beside him. They always managed to make him feel better. The larger of the two, Plagg, allowed the pets for a minute or two before lying down just beyond arms’ reach to get black fur all over Adrien’s white sheets. Plagg’s sister Tikki, a more even-tempered calico, took advantage of Adrien’s now-undivided attention and curled up right beside him.

“I’m the only one she really talks to,” Adrien marveled out loud.

He had been convinced that Ladybug had several people she talked to on the app. After all, she was a popular fashion account, and she had been so willing to answer his question. From what her friend-slash-photographer said, however, it sounded like she rarely responded to the large number of messages she received.

“What makes me special?” He looked to his cats as if they could give him an answer, but all he got was an uninterested yawn from Plagg. “She doesn’t know who I am. She thinks I’m just some nerdy Legend of Zelda cosplayer with a food and a cat obsession. That’s not special. _Merde_ , that could be anyone!”

At the mention of Zelda, Adrien blushed again. If he hadn’t been in love with Ladybug before, he certainly was now. Ladybug’s latest post had destroyed him. He was no longer a human being, just an Adrien-flavored puddle of goo.

The image of Ladybug in the Zelda-inspired dress wedged itself into his mind and stuck. Her unspoken apology was clear, but at the same time, he didn’t feel like he deserved it. He had been the cause of her hiatus from Instagram in the first place. Would she forgive him if she knew the truth?

Scratch that. Even if he wasn’t Adrien Agreste, would she forgive him?

Scratch that again. After all, if he _wasn’t_ Adrien Agreste, he wouldn’t be in this situation in the first place!

“What would you do?” he asked Tikki. She butted her head into his side and just kept purring.

“Of course. That makes sense.”

He took her soft mew as one of agreement, and he sighed. He never should have started this whole double-identity thing.

As if on cue, his phone lit up with a notification.

 **_la_mode_coccinelle:_ ** _god I feel like such a poser rn. I know absolutely nothing about loz ^^”_

Adrien couldn’t help the fond smile that appeared on his face.

 **_lechatnoir:_ ** _surely you know a little bit. who is Zelda?_

 **_la_mode_coccinelle:_ ** _the princess. that’s easy, i just googled her for a couple days straight!_

 **_lechatnoir:_ ** _and the hero’s name is?_

 **_la_mode_coccinelle:_ ** _Link? Come on, his name is constantly in your photo captions_

 **_lechatnoir:_ ** _See? There you go! You already know more about loz than like 50% of the population, I promise_

 **_la_mode_coccinelle:_ ** _???_

Adrien couldn’t keep the grin off his face as he explained to her that a large number of people thought Link’s name was Zelda. He laughed outright at her indignant response.

A little voice in the back of his head told him that this was the first conversation he’d had with Ladybug that didn’t revolve around costuming and sewing. With every message he received, he desperately hoped it wouldn’t be the last. She was so much fun, and so _genuine_ … and also genuinely interested in what he had to say about Zelda, which he could talk about for hours.

Eventually, though, the conversation wound down, and Adrien let it go. As desperate as he was to learn more about the woman behind the ladybug spots, he didn’t want to come across as, well, desperate.

 **_la_mode_coccinelle:_ ** _I think I’m gonna call it a night! Another long day tomorrow …_

 ** _lechatnoir:_** _that’s totally fine, I should probably do so myself soon too. Goodnight,_ my lady _:)_

 _Merde_ , why did he send that? Yes, the English pun had been on his mind for weeks, and this was the first chance it seemed appropriate to use it, but was it really appropriate? When she didn’t respond immediately, he hopped on damage control.

 ** _lechatnoir:_** _get it? bc in English ‘_ coccinelle’ _is ‘_ Lady-bug’

Ladybug didn’t reply for what seemed like another eternity.

 **_la_mode_coccinelle:_ ** _Chat?_

Adrien’s heart leapt into his throat.

 **_lechatnoir:_ ** _yes?_

 ** _la_mode_coccinelle:_** _your puns are_ paw-ful

 ** _la_mode_coccinelle:_** _get it? bc in English_ ‘terrible’ _is ‘_ awful’ _and_ ‘pautte’ _is_ ‘paw’ so, ‘paw-ful’

 **_lechatnoir:_ ** _Ladybug?_

 **_la_mode_coccinelle:_ ** _yes?_

 **_lechatnoir:_ ** _go to bed_

Adrien dropped his phone after sending that last message, stunned beyond belief. Had he just been _flirting_ with Ladybug? Had _Ladybug_ been flirting with _him?_

He never thought he’d be one to fall for someone he’d never actually met, but the girls he met because of his modeling career usually only wanted one thing or another from him. Combine that with the fact that he spent all his free time working on cosplays and attending conventions … well, he was no shrink, but it wasn’t surprising that he had latched onto Ladybug the way he had.

He stroked Tikki’s ears absently. God, he was in so much trouble.

* * *

Likes: 32,042  
Followers: 701K

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	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had this chapter written for months. I was hoping to wait to post it until I had the next chapter written, but the past couple months have been really rough for me personally, and all my writing fell by the wayside. I'm starting to get back into it now, but I can still only write what I really feel inspiration for, and this fic isn't quite at that level for me right now.
> 
> I WILL be continuing this fic, I promise! I'm planning to finally watch season 2 when it's released to Netflix, and that should get my ML brain juices flowing again. Thank you all for sticking with me though this unexpected hiatus, I'm glad you like reading this story as much as I do writing it <3
> 
> If anyone is interested in the meantime, I created a discord server for my fics. I'm new to this whole discord thing but there's channels there for Instantane, Fermeture, and La Curiosite, so if you wanna talk to me about any fic, feel free to do so there! Invite link is here: https://discord.gg/E5rT8kH

“… Yes, thank you! I’ll let her know. Okay, bye.”

Marinette set the phone back on the desk with a clatter and groaned softly to herself. She was in the third week of her internship, and it was … not _quite_ going the way she had always imagined it would.

It wasn’t that she had been naïve. She had known that fashion internships were mostly phone calls and errands and pulling pieces together for supervisors. The work itself, she didn’t mind. Menial tasks were menial, but necessary. It was just that, when compared to the thrill of designing and sewing and modeling her own pieces, the internship felt stifling.

But she was interning at _Agreste Designs!_ Of all places! That in itself was enough to keep her morale high.

Well, for the most part.

“Girls, you will never _believe_ what Mme. Sancoeur just said to me!”

Chloé Bourgeois flounced into the office the interns all shared, carrying with her the now-familiar air of arrogance that Marinette had already complained about to Alya several times over at this point. Most of Marinette’s fellow interns were sweet and kind enough when she talked with them one-on-one, but the _de facto_ queen bee Chloé had – for some reason – singled Marinette out as The One She Didn’t Like, So No One Else Should Like Her Either.

So Marinette was having trouble on the ‘making friends’ front, but still – she was working at Agreste Designs! Besides, Chloé only had a couple hundred followers on Instagram compared to Ladybug’s couple hundred _thousand_ , and she derived a small amount of petty satisfaction from that.

“What did she say?” Sabrina Raincomprix asked eagerly, looking up from her work organizing the company closet.

“She said that _Adrien_ has a shoot tomorrow, and that _I’m_ going to be helping out as a _personal assistant!_ ” Chloé pulled her sunglasses from where they sat perched on her head and snapped them shut with a sense of finality.

Sabrina gasped, and several of the other interns congratulated Chloé as well. Marinette resisted the urge to roll her eyes. They were _all_ helping out with the shoot tomorrow, it was nothing special. Well, it _was_ , because they’d get to meet Adrien _fucking_ Agreste, but it was par to the course for interns to help out at shoots. They’d already helped out with several lower-profile shoots.

Marinette quirked her lips into a smile and shook her head slightly as she opened her email. Sighing softly, she tried to get over herself. What did it matter if Chloé got a position like ‘personal assistant’ while she only got something like ‘wardrobe assistant’? Nothing. Being Ladybug didn’t give her bonus points – not here. The only two people who knew who she was behind the mask of Internet were Nathalie Sancoeur and Gabriel Agreste himself.

And, as evidenced by this development, Nathalie Sancoeur was not one to play favorites.

Speaking of, Marinette had an email waiting for her in her inbox.

_From: Sancoeur, Nathalie  
To: Dupain-Cheng, Marinette_

_ Subject: Wardrobe for Tomorrow’s Shoot _

_Marinette,_

_Please find the following pieces in the company closet and make sure they are in top shape for tomorrow. We accept nothing less than perfection._

_\- Nathalie_

_Attached: 1 File_

Marinette had quickly learned that ‘nothing less than perfection’ was the unofficial company motto. Nathalie closed almost all of her emails with it. Every company-wide email closed with the line as well. It made for an intimidating atmosphere, and Marinette had had a hard time adjusting to it at first.

In fact, her misplaced words and general awkward bumbling air of incompetence was what Chloé had latched onto her first week and turned against her. Marinette would never admit it to anyone else, but she had gone home and cried on that very first night. She had tried to be quiet, but their apartment was small and Alya had heard her anyway.

After a small amount of pity and commiseration, Alya had dug through Marinette’s closet and threw a military-style jacket at her with a high collar and two rows of gold buttons down the sides of the opening. Soon after came a white shirt, gold leggings, and a pair of combat boots. Because it was summer, the sun hadn’t quite set, and so they had gone out and done an impromptu power-pose photoshoot in front of _Les Invalides_.

Marinette had gone into work the next day with far more determination than she’d felt the night before. Unfortunately, it wasn’t until the end of that week that she felt like she’d finally settled into the groove of things.

But that didn’t matter now. She printed the list of items Nathalie requested and closed the email. Pushing herself away from the desk, she ignored the eyes upon her and Chloé’s titters as she left the room.

Fun fact: Chloé Bourgeois followed Ladybug on Instagram.

The company closet was impressive, to say the very least. Marinette had been in there a couple times now, and yet she was still stunned by the sheer amount of color and texture and fabric in the room. Even more stunning was the fact she recognized several of the pieces from past Agreste collections and magazines and, admittedly, Adrien’s photoshoots. And she was here! In the room with them!

She shook the stars from her eyes and gathered the pieces on the list, hanging them on the trolley she had grabbed along the way. Once she had everything she needed, she rolled them out to the workroom, where she painstakingly steamed and ironed and lint-rolled under the watchful eyes of the senior seamstresses.

Thankfully, she managed not to screw anything up the way she had the first time she’d been left to her own devices. She _knew_ how much steam and heat each fabric required, but under the stress she had accidently gotten them mixed up. It was a mistake she wouldn’t make again.

The rest of the day went quickly. Marinette kept her head down and did what needed to be done. She asked Nathalie if there was anything else she could help with. She didn’t complain when she was sent out on a coffee run – at least she got some fresh air.

The next day, a day she’d dreamed of since her years in _coll_ _ège,_ came all too quickly.

* * *

Likes: 10,660  
Followers: 717K

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Oops.

Marinette swallowed hard against the sensation of her stomach leaping up into her throat. All of her fellow interns were dressed and made-up so _well_. Rose wore a cute blue sundress. Juleka wore a sharp suit. Sabrina wore a fashionable romper. Chloé had gone above and beyond and wore a bright yellow bodycon dress.

“You do realize we’re meeting _Adrien Agreste_ today, right?” Juleka asked.

“Uhm, yeah,” Marinette said.

It was clear the others thought she hadn’t dressed for the occasion. Which, well, maybe she hadn’t. She wore a white cropped t-shirt over a pink bralette with a pair of matching pastel pink high-rise pants that came down to just above her ankles. Navy blue pumps and a navy blazer completed the outfit. Her hair was in its usual pigtails, and she only had the lightest brushing of makeup on her face.

She had meant to dress up a little more that morning, but she’d been up late sewing and had slept through her early alarm, giving her far less time to get ready than she’d wanted. She had supposed it didn’t really matter – they were just interns, after all. At least she was wearing heels, although she’d brought Converse for when her feet started to kill her.

Unlike the others, who had been assigned roles like ‘personal assistant’ and ‘camera assistant’ – every intern position had the term ‘assistant’ in it – she would be working behind the scenes in the wardrobe department. Honestly, she didn’t mind. She would get to be hands-on with the clothes, which was what really mattered.

Unfortunately, part of her wouldn’t be happy unless she actually met Adrien.

Then again, what could she say?

“It’s not like I can just walk up to him and tell him I’m Ladybug,” she muttered to herself as she fetched the rack of clothes she had collected the day before. “He’d think I’m crazy, or that I’m just trying to get his attention.”

She sighed heavily. She would just stare at him, starstruck, like every other foolish girl who had hung pictures of him in her room during _coll_ _ège_ and _lyc_ _ée._ She hadn’t taken them down by the time she moved out for _universit_ _é_ , so they were still up there – an embarrassing shrine to a celebrity crush that had since faded, but had never gone away completely.

Marinette hummed quietly to herself as she rolled the trolley from the workroom to the men’s dressing room. She knocked on the closed door. When she didn’t get a response, she opened the door and propped it with a nearby wedge so that she could wheel the rack in.

Carefully, she began arranging the pieces by outfit. She understood the value of time in this sort of thing, and was careful not to miss a single detail. Her mind drifted back to her own closet – it was still growing, but thankfully far more organized than it had been a few months ago.

She finished laying everything out fairly quickly, but she … really didn’t want go back and join the others. Catching sight of herself in the mirror, she made a face. One of her pigtails was falling out. She sighed and pulled both ties out of her hair to let it fall around her shoulders. She shook it out, then pulled it up into a high messy bun.

Still humming to herself, she started to dance a little in front of the mirror, pulling exaggeratedly seductive faces at herself as she wiggled her hips and waved her arms about.

As she came out of a twirl, she caught movement out of the corner of her eye. Looking over at the other end of the mirror, she froze when she saw green eyes staring back at her.

Green eyes.

Blonde hair.

A face like no other.

Marinette squeaked. She froze, her face flushing bright red. “Uh. Sorry, I was just. Uh. The mirror –”

Adrien – _Adrien Agreste_ – smiled and chuckled. God, his laugh was adorable. “Don’t worry about it,” he said, addressing her though the mirror. “The door was open, so I thought I’d find someone in here. You’re one of my dad’s interns, right?”

Marinette turned to face him proper and rubbed the back of her neck nervously. “It’s that obvious, huh?” She giggled.

“Dude, relax,” Adrien said, leaving the doorway and – oh god – walking closer. “I grew up around basically everyone in this company. It’s easy to recognize new faces.”

“Oh. Yeah,” Marinette said sheepishly. “I suppose you’re right. I forgot about that.”

Suddenly he was standing within arm’s reach, and Marinette didn’t know what to do with herself. Whenever she’d played out this exact situation in her head, she’d known exactly what it was she would say. Now, all of that flew from her brain like pigeons flying the coop.

“At risk of sounding conceited, I realize you probably already know who I am,” Adrien said, holding his hand out, “But I’m Adrien Agreste. What’s your name?”

Marinette took his hand on instinct. Oh. It was warm. And soft. And his cologne smelled good. “M-Marinette,” she managed to say. _Merde_ , she forgot her last name. “Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

Adrien grinned. “Pleased to meet you, Marinette!”

“Pleased to meet you too,” Marinette replied weakly, letting go of his hand. “Uhm. I should go find Mme. Sancoeur and find out what I’m supposed to be doing now.”

“Well, don’t let me keep you,” Adrien said. “Nathalie can be scary when things aren’t running smoothly!”

Marinette felt some of the tension leave her body. “Yeah, that’s one word for it,” she said. “Well, I’ll see you later, I guess!”

“See ya!”

While she had been managing just fine in her heels all morning, Marinette felt like she tottered out of the dressing room. Adrien Agreste. She’d just met _Adrien Agreste_. And now he knew her name! (He had also caught her dancing awkwardly in his dressing room, but that didn’t really seem to matter). Honestly, she could die happy right there and then.

But she didn’t. She pulled herself together and reported back to Mme. Sancoeur for her next task.

* * *

Likes: 21,002  
Followers: 723K

* * *

Marinette hovered in the back of the room, away from the cameras and the bright lights and Adrien Agreste’s even brighter smile. Professional photoshoots were fascinating to watch. Everything went like clockwork.

Outfit.

Several poses in quick succession.

New outfit.

Rinse.

Repeat.

Adrien moved so _naturally_ in front of the camera. With an easy smile and a casual brush at a stray piece of hair, Marinette’s heart nearly fell out of her chest when he glanced in her direction. Not at her, in her _direction_.

This was bad. This was very, very bad. She felt herself falling faster and harder than she ever had before. Back in _coll_ _ège_ and _lyc_ _ée,_ all she had were posters and fashion shows and filmed interviews. The crush could only have been superficial – she didn’t know him.

But now she did. Well, she’d met him. Briefly. And he’d graciously overlooked the way she’d made a fool of herself.

And that was all it took.

Chloe stood up front and off to the side, watching Adrien with an unsettlingly hungry look in her eyes. Marinette noticed Adrien did his best not to turn toward her, which gave her a strange sense of satisfaction. Each time it became obvious, it was all she could do to contain giggles.

The first three outfits went smoothly, but it was the fourth that really got Marinette in trouble. It was a shimmery, almost reflective white suit with a bright emerald tie, extremely well-cut and flattering. The man looked like an angel, and Marinette’s heart ached. That suit would go so _well_ with the flowy white dress that Adrien himself had re-grammed. With deep breaths, she tried to center herself, but the very thought threatened to consume her.

This shoot called for athletic poses that would cause the light to reflect off the suit in as many ways as possible. Marinette could only stare as he jumped about on the platform, sometimes with serious faces, sometimes with goofy excited ones. There were a couple green lights added to the collection of white ones, which added a spot of color.

“ _Non, non, non!_ ” Mme. Sancoeur cried, breaking Marinette from her thoughts. “This isn’t working! The tie keeps moving off center! Marinette, the pins!”

Startled, Marinette grabbed the small box of pins as fast as she could. A sharp, stabbing pain in her finger stopped her short as she impaled herself on a loose one. Checking her finger, she saw to her dismay that she had started bleeding. She couldn’t get blood on that suit!

Rather than hand the pins off to someone else, she grabbed a bandaid from her pocket. She had started keeping them with her about halfway through the first week of the internship. Hastily, she wrapped it around her index finger, where it joined the couple others she already had on other fingers.

“Marinette!”

“I’m coming!” she cried, and hurried up to the front, her heels clicking frantically across the floor.

When she got there, Mme. Sancoeur was turned away on her headset talking to someone. Marinette gulped. This would be up to her, then. Okay. She could do this. Easy.

She took a deep breath and stepped up onto the platform, her legs shaking beneath her. The clack of her heels against the platform sounded infinitely louder than it had against the floor just moments before. She clutched the box of pins at if it were her lifeline, knuckles white against the cardboard.

Her heart thumped fiercely. When she dared to look up at Adrien’s face, it kicked into overdrive. She kept her breathing measured – if she didn’t consciously think about it, she might stop breathing altogether.

“So,” Adrien said quietly, one corner of his mouth pulling into a half-smile. “We meet again. Didn’t you say we would?”

“Uhm.” Marinette scrambled for words. “Y-yeah, I guess I did.” She let out a small laugh.

Adrien leaned in conspiratorially. “Just try not to stab me,” he said. “I’ve been stabbed more times than I can count at these things.”

“T-that was my intention,” Marinette stammered as she reached for his tie. “Not stabbing you, I mean!”

It was obvious he was trying to put her at ease, she thought as she carefully adjusted the emerald tie. Unfortunately, his easy, borderline flirty tone just made things even harder. She kept her eyes on the tie as she pinned it in place, and if her hands lingered a little longer than need be, it was only by fractions of a second. When she finished, she looked up to see Adrien looking back at her with an inquisitive look on his face.

“What?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Nothing,” he said. “Thank you, Marinette.”

At hearing her name leave his lips, Marinette blushed, nodded, and quickly retreated from the platform to her safe spot in the back of the room.

Unfortunately, this time when he glanced in her direction, she knew he was actually looking at _her_.

God, she was so fucked.

* * *

Likes: 29,883  
Followers: 730K

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